


Coping

by Blue10spades



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 08:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11414388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue10spades/pseuds/Blue10spades
Summary: Storage Rick must cope with having a Summer in his care and Summer must cope with the loss of her old life. THIS CAN BE READ AS EITHER PLATONIC/FAMILIAL OR ROMANTIC.





	Coping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [black_lodge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_lodge/gifts), [gaybitterandtired](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaybitterandtired/gifts).



Coping

 

Storage Rick must cope with having a Summer in his care and Summer must cope with the loss of her old life.

**THIS CAN BE READ AS EITHER PLATONIC/FAMILIAL OR ROMANTIC. I LEFT IT UP TO THE READER TO INTERPRET HOWEVER THEY’D LIKE AS THE NATURE OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS NOT MY FOCUS.**

 

Before I start I just want to say this Rick is extremely different from C137 Rick. I head canon him as much kinder and gentler given his profession at the Citadel. If it’s too out of character for you oh well.

 

Also, all the semicolon’s and comma’s used in this story have been a shot in the dark. Let me know if there’s any glaringly obvious mistakes or typo’s, I’m half-awake as I post this.

 

I don’t own Rick and Morty.

* * *

 

 

_“Sometimes it’s okay if the only thing you did today was breathe.”_

-Yumi Sakugawa

 

 Rick knew it was going to be a bad day the moment he saw the two Guard Rick’s approaching his counter with a Summer between them.

 

A guard Rick coming to speak to him on any given day spelt trouble. They didn’t tend to do that unless a Rick died and thus a Morty in his care was left Rickless, or if they came to collect the leftover Morty’s for reassignment.

 

The fact that they towed a Summer along—one that looked like she’d seen better days—was an indicator in itself.

 

“Yeah, what?” He asked when they stood before him.

 

“We got you a Summer,” The Guard on the left said flatly and then prodded the red head forward. She snarled at the man and he rolled his eyes at her actions.

 

Rick gave the three incredulous looks.

 

“You’re joking right?”

 

“No,” The same guard responded and folded his arms. “Cronenberg Rick from H-1963 brought her in. Said her parent’s were e _EEE_ aten by the locals after her original Rick bailed. Guess he—h-h-he felt bad or some shit cause here the fuck she is.”

 

Rick sighed and rubbed a palm over his face. Sometimes Rick’s were real fucking dicks.

 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with a _Summer_?” He asked when he looked back to them. “It’s not like she can be reassigned. I-I’ll be stuck with her forever!”

 

“I can take her off your hands,” Said the other Guard Rick. He ran his gaze over Summer’s body lasciviously and Storage Rick frowned.

 

“Yeah, good one, asshole. Leave her here.”

 

The Guard Rick huffs, disappointed, and his partner unfolds his arms to shove against his shoulder.

 

“Stop being a pervert,” He commands before turning to Storage Rick. “We’ll let you know if there’s ever a demand for her.” He says before the two turn and march back to their post, leaving Summer behind for him.

 

“Not fucking likely,” Rick says under his breath. Summer’s were rare but they weren’t high in demand either.

 

He walks over to the door that lead to the outside but Summer bails the moment the door cracks open.

 

“Hey!” He yells, attempting to stop her with his voice alone, but she sprints away until she disappears into the crowd and is lost from his sight.

 

“Fuck,” He hisses. He contemplates following after her but his responsibility is with the Morty’s in his care first.

 

“Fuck.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

He waits until all his Morty’s are either picked up by their Rick’s or put to bed for the night before he ventures out to search for Summer.

 

He finds her about ten minutes in, cornered by three Rick’s, and looking vicious as she is. They are smirking as they surround her and one darts his hand out to touch her hair. Summer reels back, a growl tearing out of her mouth, and the Rick’s share a good chuckle amongst each other.

 

“Ooh feisty—I-I like that,” One of them comments and Rick feels himself boil over with anger as he observes them.

 

“Hey!” He calls sharply, drawing their attention. They frown when they notice him, their mood appearing to have soured.

 

“What the fuck do you want?” One of them asks. Rick gestures to the red head between them.

 

“Came to get her,” He said and their frown’s deepen.

 

“Tough shit,” Another one says. “We found her first. Mo _OOO_ ove it along, asswipe.” Rick gazes at them apathetically; rolls the toothpick in his mouth.

 

“I get everyone’s Morty’s at least once.” He told them and their eyebrows furrow at his out of the blue declaration.

 

“Be a real fucking shame if when I get yours they just happen to disappear.”

 

The threat is clear.

 

One Rick narrows his eyes.

 

“You wouldn’t dare,” He snarls and Rick gazes back at him flatly.

 

“Wouldn’t I?”

 

They hesitate, clearly pondering on the possibility of his actions, before seeming to come to a reluctant agreement. They scowl as they stride away, one even going so far as to spit in his direction.

 

“Assholes,” Rick comments once they are a good distance away. His gaze swivels to Summer who looks about ready to run again.

 

“Don’t even try it,” He growls. “Let’s go.”

 

He turns and walks back to the Day Care; he hears Summer hesitate before her soft footsteps follow after him.

 

When they finally get back to the Day Care Summer reluctantly passes through the entry as he holds the door open for her. When she is in he closes the door and folds his arms across his chest as he runs a cursory gaze over her.

 

“You want to shower?” He asks, eyeing the filth and grime coating her skin.

 

She glares up at him defiantly and he huffs out a breath of exasperation and shakes his head.

 

“Okay, kid,” He says and moves around her to walk deeper into the room. “You can either follow me or stand there like a moody little shit.”

 

He hears Summer snarl and then her quiet footfalls as she trails behind him. He passes the room used to house overnight Morty’s and his own bedroom before finally they reach the bathroom.

 

He flicks a light on for her and she blinks against the sudden brightness.

 

“Here’s the shower; towel’s are under the sink and there are spare toothbrushes in that drawer.”

 

He gestures to everything as he speaks and Summer let’s her gaze roam across the room.

 

He then takes a step back and sizes her up. He gnaws on his toothpick, shifts it with his tongue.

 

“You’re a bit big to fit any of the spare Morty clothes I keep…” He tells her and Summer glowers at that. He feels a frown quirk the corner of his mouth.

 

“You know how to talk or did the Cronenberg’s eat your tongue too?”

 

Summer flinches at his words and he internally groans at his own fuck up.

 

Her parents had been eaten and here he was making callous jokes on it.

 

“Shit, sorry, ah—th-that was fucked up of me,” He said and looked away. Summer said nothing and he gave a long exhale through his nose and left briefly. When he came back he held a bundle of clothes in his hands.

 

“I got you one of my shirt’s; it’ll be a bit long on you. You’re not gonna fit mine or Morty’s pants so you’re just going to have to settle with some boxers until I can get some clothes for you.”

 

Summer doesn’t respond so he settles it all on the counter by the sink.

 

“When you’re done there’s a room—second door on the left—it’s the, ah, Morty Room. You can pick any empty cot to sleep on.”

 

He doesn’t linger for a response as he knows he won’t receive one.

 

Instead he heads to his room and falls asleep for the night. When he wakes up the next day he finds the clothes untouched and still on the sink counter and Summer once again missing.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

He finds her in an alley digging through garbage cans later that night.

 

“Hey, Summer!” Her head whips up and she takes one look at him and then bolts in the opposite direction.

 

“Fucking—“ He pulls a device from his pocket, aims it at her, and then fires. A stream of bubble wrap wrapped around her and she tripped onto the floor.

 

She thrashed wildly against her constraints and Rick walked up to her at a leisure pace.

 

“You’re turning out to be a real pain in my ass, kid,” Rick said with a deep frown. Summer hissed up at him and he waved his hand at her dismissively.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” He bent down and scooped her body up beneath one of his arms. She continued to wriggle in his grip and he gave her a firm shake.

 

“Keep doing that and I’ll drop you,” He warned. She stilled within his grasp and he made the slow walk back to the daycare. He was surprised to find his Morty’s awake and in the open storage room.

 

“What are you doing up?” He asks the room at large. They all ignore him and instead press forward to eye up the girl still tucked beneath his arm.

 

“Wh-who’s that?” Asked Cold Morty.

 

“Idiot. Haven’t you ever seen a Summer before?” Asked Miami Morty as he shifted closer to peer at Summer’s face. She snarled back at him and he smirked and blew her a kiss.

 

“Summer?” Asked another Morty, clearly confused.

 

“She’s pretty, Rick.” Scruffy Morty said, a blush rising atop his features.

 

“She’s also your sister,” Rick tells the flustered boy and then looks at all the gathered Morty’s. “Now all of you go back to bed before your Rick’s complain to me about you falling asleep on an adventure.”

 

They grumble but acquiesce. When the room is empty he carefully sets Summer on her feet and holds her by her shoulders.

 

“Okay, kid—you can either be good and stay here or I can leave you in this bubble wrap until some Rick decides to claim you. I estimate a few months before that happens.”

 

She frowns mulishly back at him and he takes that as her answer. He pulls out a box cutter from his pocket and carefully cuts away the bubble wrap binding her. She stares up at him expectantly, waiting for his next order, and he waves a hand and guides her to the bathroom once more.

 

“Seriously, you fucking reek,” He tells her bluntly once they reach the tiled room. “Take a shower.”

 

He leaves briefly and comes back with the same bundle of clothes from the other day. He places it on the sink counter and then turns to Summer and presents her with the article of clothing he held in his other arm.

 

It was a pair of white capris.

 

Summer looked at it, stunned.

 

“Here, take it,” He said and waved it at her impatiently. She took it hesitantly, fingers grasping tightly around the material. She continued to stare at it and Rick lingered for a moment before eventually taking his leave. He was just passing through the threshold when her voice slid through the silence.

 

“Thank you…”

 

He halted, looked over his shoulder to regard her, and found her eyes shining with unshed tears.

 

“No problem, baby.” He said softly and then left, shutting the door behind him as he did.

 

He went to his room and fell asleep and the next morning he found Summer dozing in a cot in the far corner of the Morty room.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

She trails into the storage room about midday when he is up to his neck with Morty’s. She’s wearing the white capris he went through the trouble of purchasing and his old Day Care shirt.

 

A few of the present Morty’s balk at her, obviously confused by her presence, while the rest continue on, unfazed.

 

“Can we go on an adventure, Rick?” Mortaion Morty asks him, drawing his attention away from Summer. He glances down to her briefly before turning back to scribble on his clipboard. When he finishes he pockets his Morty pen and regards the green Morty.

 

“Nope,” He tells her with finality. “You know the rules, Morty. I-I don’t take you kids on adventures.”

 

“C’mon,” She whines but Rick continues to stare at her indifferently. She bristles, mouth sliding open, and he is quick to shove a stick of chewing gum into her mouth.

 

“Your siren singing is forbidden, too, Morty,” He tells her and she glares at him before chewing on her gum irately. She walks away and he turns to find Summer beside him. She stares after the departing Morty and turns to give him an appraising look.

 

“Yeah?” He asks and crosses his arms.

 

She frowns at him silently and he wonders in exasperation if this is how she is going to be the entirety of her stay with him.

 

When she continues to offer up no response he walks from the storage area and back to his front counter. He leans his head against his palm and watches as Rick’s traverse the Citadel with their Morty’s. He twirls the toothpick in his mouth boredly and ponders on what to do for dinner that night.

 

Summer joins him at his right and his gaze slides to her.

 

She stares out at the city before them and he sees her lip curl as she takes in its occupants. It doesn’t take a genius to spot Summer’s thinly veiled hate.

 

 _Left behind by her grandfather and brother,_ He muses quietly. _And surrounded by a whole community of them against her will._

He supposes anyone would be upset given the situation.

 

“What’s you favorite pizza topping?” He finds himself asking and her attention darts to him. She gives him a wary look and he continues to stare at her apathetically.

 

“…pepperoni.” She finally divulges.

 

“Pepperoni pizza for dinner it is then,” He says and turns his face forward. He sees in the corner of his eye as Summer continues to look at him, perplexed.

 

“And then after we can go get some ice cream,” He offers. She is silent for a long moment.

 

“…okay.” She finally agrees softly and Rick smiles against his palm.

 

Their tentative amity continues for the next four weeks as Summer slowly adjust to her life in his Day Care. Rick almost thinks that things will be okay until one night he is woken from a dead sleep.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Rick?” There’s a soft nudge against his shoulder and he jerks up instantly; arm darting beneath his pillow for the ray gun he kept beneath it. His hand pauses against the cool metal when he squints and takes in the person before him.

 

“Summer?” He asks blearily and rubs a fist against his sleep-muddled eyes. “Wh-what are—are you okay?” He asks.

 

She stands across from him; face shaded in darkness.

 

“All the Morty’s are gone,” She whispers, voice cracked. There’s a pulse of fear at her statement—one that makes his heart flip—but then he remembers.

 

“They went home, baby,” He murmurs softly. “All their Rick’s picked them up.”

 

She is silent at his words, form still steeped in shadows. He hears a quiet sniffle and notices a barely perceptible shake of her shoulders.

 

He sits up fully.

 

“Are you okay?” He repeats. He sees Summer’s arm move up and rub against her face.

 

“I was scared,” She whispered, words warbling. “I thought—“ She breaks off with a strangled sob and Rick’s heart plummets.

 

She had thought he had abandoned her.

 

He swings his legs over the mattress and he reaches forward to draw Summer into an embrace. She hiccups against his chest and he runs a hand through her hair soothingly.

 

“I didn’t leave, baby,” He comforts. “I’m right here, yeah?”

 

She nods her head sullenly.

 

“Can I sleep here tonight?” She asks him after her tears abate.

 

“Yeah,” He says and scoots back against the edge of his mattress so that Summer can settle in beside him. When she positions herself on the mattress she latches onto his arm and holds on tightly.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” He tells her, opposite hand coming up to stroke against her knuckles. “I’m not leaving.”

 

“I don’t know that,” She counters thickly. “My Rick left me.”

 

“And am I like him?” He asks. She is quiet for a long while and he shortly realizes she’d fallen asleep; her hand still wrapped tightly around his arm.

 

He’s not sure why her silence bothers him.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“So what is this exactly?”

 

He glances to her from his position on his bed. Summer is standing in front of his dresser; fingers fiddling with the device he settled next to a lamp. She’d been at the Day Care for two months now and she’d acclimated slowly but steadily to life at the Day Care.

 

He thinks part of it is because of him—or rather he likes to think that part of it is because of him. But Summer was surprisingly resilient; she took everything in stride.

 

Either that or she was just good at hiding her emotions.

 

“Who’s watching the front?” He asks, arm sliding beneath his head and legs crossing at the ankle.

 

“Morticia is,” Summer responds, eyes never straying from the item on his dresser.

 

“What is this?” She asks again and traces a finger against the long antenna on the contraption.

 

“It’s a radio,” He reveals. “It catches music all along the multiverse.”

 

Summer’s hand stills. “Yeah?”

 

There is longing in her voice. Rick twists the toothpick in his mouth before he speaks.

 

“Yeah. There’s a switch on the side. Turn it on—t-try it out.”

 

He hears as she flicks a switch and music in a different language pours into the room.

 

“Twist the dial,” He instructs. “Find something good.”

 

Summer does as he says and she slides through different stations for a while before pausing to settle on something.

 

“I know this song,” She reveals quietly, voice abnormally subdued. Rick hums and listens to the tune she’s picked; it’s a melancholic piece. He shuts his eyes and listens as a violin plays, joined softly by a guitar, and the slow beat of drums. A man’s voice sings:

 

_“Today you were far away_

_and I didn't ask you why_

_What could I say_

_I was far away_

_You just walked away_

_and I just watched you_

_What could I say_

_How close am I to losing you”_

He realizes too late why exactly she picked that song.

 

Rick eyes snap open and he sits up abruptly. He finds Summer’s back still to him but her stance is curved; bowed over like something heavy is pressing down on her.

 

“Summer—“ He calls but she interrupts him.

 

“Why did he leave me?”

 

Her words were said brokenly and he heard her breath hitch; saw her shoulders shake. Rick’s mouth curled sympathetically and he really wanted to deck that other Rick in the face right now. He watched as she brought her hands up to scrub against her face and he stood and walked to her.

 

She sniffled as he carefully turned her around and her hands fell to her sides to reveal her tear-streaked face.

 

“Did he not love me, Rick?” She asked him, eyes watery and imploring him for an answer; a reason as to why she’d been left behind. “D-did I do something wrong?”

 

“No, Summer,” He murmured and lifted his hand to wipe away her tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

It was like a dam breaking; her soft cries shifted to heartbreaking sobs and Rick sighed sadly.

 

She wept against his hand, chest heaving with the force of her sobs and he shifted his hand to cradle the back of her head. He gently tugged her forward so that she was pressed against his front and he wrapped his other arm against her shoulders. He pressed a kiss against her hair and swayed her gently to the rest of the music.

 

_“Tonight you just close your eyes_

_and I just watch you_

_slip away_

_How close am I to losing you”_

“It’s going to be okay, baby,” He tells her. His shirt grows damp and Summer clutches against his lapels as he continues to move her to the music. “It’s going to be okay.”

_“Hey, are you awake_

_Yeah I'm right here_

_Well can I ask you about today_

 

 

_How close am I to losing you_

_How close am I to losing…”_

“Can I sleep here tonight, Rick?”

 

“Yeah, baby…you can sleep here tonight.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

 _“Rick!”_ Morty cries in pain and there’s a quiet murmur of ‘oh, no’ permeating the air. Rick whips around from his place at the desk and he strides forward to the gathered Morty’s. Summer follows at his heels.

 

“What happened?” He asked when he takes in the Morty on the floor, clutching at a bloodied nose.

 

“We were playing tag and he fell,” One of the other Morty’s offered. Rick kneeled down to the injured boy and gently pried his hands away from his face. Blood seeped out at a steady pace and Rick leant forward to draw his shirt up to staunch the blood and pinch the bridge of the boy’s nose.

 

“Tip your head forward,” He softly commanded and the boy cried silent tears as he did as he was told. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

He repeated that until the blood ebbed and subsided.

 

“There you go,” He said when he pulled back. “Good as new, kid.”

 

Morty blinked up at him tearfully and then leant forward to wrap him in a hug.

 

“Th-thanks, Rick.”

 

“Yeah, no problem, Morty.” When Morty releases him he stands up and heads back to the front. He grimaces at the state of his bloodied shirt and grabs one of the spares he kept under the counter.

 

He is just shrugging on his new shirt—still debating on whether his old one is salvageable—when Summer’s voice breaks through his reverie.

 

“You’re… _different_ from my Grand—from my old Rick.”

 

Rick snorts and gives her a look of incredulity. He rights his shirt over his form.

 

“Four months with me and you’re only now noticing that?” He asks.

 

She stares at him expectantly, waiting for a reason behind his personality. He rolls the toothpick in his mouth, contemplating.

 

“I didn’t have a Diane,” He finally admits and Summer’s eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t have a Beth, or a Summer, or a Morty. I didn’t have anyone to lose and so I didn’t have anyone to get hurt over.”

 

“You know all the Rick’s out there,” He says and makes a vague gesture to the outside. “They’re all harboring a pain, a depression, that I’m lucky enough to have never gone through.”

 

“So you’re saying all those Rick’s are massive dick’s because they’re _sad_?” Summer says incredulously.

 

“They’re coping,” He said and gave her a meaningful look. Summer blushes, realizing that she had been in a similar state when she’d arrived.

 

“They’re still dicks,” She said waspishly and Rick smirks. He lays his palm against her head and ruffles her hair much to her chagrin.

 

“I didn’t say they weren’t.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Morty, you little brat!”

 

Rick turned from his position against the counter and took in the scene before him. Summer was yelling at the Morty’s surrounding her as they laughed and ran circles around her. She snarled and took a swipe at one of them and they ducked beneath her outstretched hand with a joyful chuckle.

 

He rolled his toothpick as he watched their shenanigans but he eventually called Summer to him when he felt like it was getting a little too heated for his tastes.

 

“Summer, c’mere.”

 

She huffed. The Morty’s whined at their loss of a playmate but they got over it quickly and developed a new game between them.

 

“Summer—“ Rick began when she was near but Summer interrupted him.

 

“Yeah, I know— Morty’s are precious, Summer, they’re _special_! They can’t be damaged otherwise their Rick’s will complain and then I’ll have to kill them, Summer. You gotta be careful with the Morty’s because they’re important and you’re not, Summer—“ She broke off at that and folded her arm; eyes avoiding his probing stare.

 

“I’ve heard it all before, Rick. I’m not going to break one of the little shits.” She said; her words softer but still edged with obvious resentment. Rick leant back against the front counter and took in her aggrieved countenance.

 

“When did I say you weren’t special?” He asked and her eyes dart up to his face before quickly looking away.

 

“You didn’t have to,” She muttered dejectedly. “No one wants a Summer. Only Morty’s matter.”

 

“That isn’t true.”

 

“Isn’t it?” She asks sharply and finally meets his stare. “I’ve been here for six months now. Every Morty that’s been in your care has gone home or been reassigned and here I am just rotting away in this storage room.”

 

“My Rick didn’t want me and there’s certainly no other Rick that wants me.” She unfolds her arms and looks at him with heartbreak in her eyes. “I don’t belong anywhere, Rick.”

 

She turns to walk away and he latches onto an arm before she can fully turn and drags her back towards him.

 

“Hey, Rick—“ She begins, voice cracking as she attempts to hold in tears. He pulls her to his chest and tucks her neatly beneath his chin. His arm wraps around her shoulders as his other hand lifts up an old looking Polaroid camera.

 

“Smile pretty, baby,” He commands and Summer has a brief moment to be surprised before there’s a blinding flash. He releases her and she blinks back the spots that develop in her vision.

 

“What was that?” She asks, bemused, as Rick takes the square photo the camera spits out. He ignores her question and instead stares at the photo as it slowly develops.

 

“Oh, it came out nice,” He said. He shoved the camera back under his desk and curled the photo towards him when Summer tried to take a look.

 

“Not yet,” He tells her and she frowns in confusion. “I’ll show you when it’s ready.”

 

She huffs at him and his lips quirk up in a smirk.

 

“Go eat something—you’re fucking irritable when you’re hungry.” He orders playfully and she glares at him but retreats back into the storage room and to the refrigerator kept in the back.

 

It’s as she’s eating and he’s watching the polaroid slowly develop that he attains a visitor.

 

“Hey!” Rick looks up to see another Rick, one splattered with blood and sporting a haggard expression upon his face. At first Rick thinks the other man was there to pick up his Morty but he spies him a moment later in the background; his face frozen in shock and blood splashed along his yellow shirt.

 

Rick frowned as he took these details in.

 

“Yeah?” He asks the other Rick; tone cautious, suspicious. He pockets the polaroid and waits expectantly.

 

He is wholly unprepared for the words that come out of the opposite Rick’s mouth.

 

“You—I-I-I heard you have a Summer.”

 

Rick narrows his eyes.

 

“What of it?” He asks and a slow understanding begins to creep in his veins as the blood along the other’s man white lab coat suddenly stands out forebodingly.

 

“I—I need her,” The other Rick says and his gaze sweeps the room behind him. “Give her to me.”

 

Rick stares at him for a long moment.

 

“No.” He finally says and the other Rick’s gaze swivels back to him sharply.

 

“What?” He spits. “W-w-what are you—you fucking asshole, I, I _need_ a Summ—“ He leans forward to snarl at him in his rage and Rick bites down on his toothpick agitatedly.

 

“Hey, buddy—you want to fucking try me?” Rick asks and then he settles his ray gun meaningfully atop the counter*. The other Rick glances at it before backing up minutely and shooting him a glare.

 

“What good is a Summer to you anyway?” The other Rick hisses. Rick shrugs— knowing it will irritate the other Rick—and scratches his cheek in a nonplussed manner.

 

“I just like her, I guess.”

 

The other Rick snarls and presses forward angrily.

 

“W-well, I need her!” He snapped and then his eyes swivel to something behind Rick.

 

“Rick?” Summer calls warily and the other Rick actually attempts to vault over the counter to get to her.

 

Rick jerks his arm up and presses the barrel of his ray gun against the other man’s chest. The other Rick stills at the contact, his eyes narrowing wrathfully at Rick.

 

“Go on then,” Rick goads coldly. “Give me a fucking excuse, asshole.”

 

The other Rick glowers but slowly lowers himself back to the floor.

 

“Beth will kick me out for losing Summer,” He says, attempting to appeal to Rick. Rick cocks his head and his next words are flat but edged with malice.

 

“What makes you think I’ll give you mine if you couldn’t even protect yours?”

 

The other Rick grits his teeth, shoots one last look to Summer, and then opens a portal and leaves with his Morty.

 

“Fucking dick,” Rick mutters and slides his gun back under the counter. He turns around and finds Summer regarding him strangely.

 

“What?”

 

Summer continues to stare.

 

“You…you said I was your Summer…”

 

Rick’s brow furrow.

 

“Well, yeah,” He said, like it was obvious. And it was. Summer had been his for a while now. The fact that she still hadn’t realized it was a little offensive at this point

 

“You’ve been here for six months—I would think it’s a given by now—“ His breath left him in a rush as Summer collided against him with a rough hug.

 

“ _Jesus_ —you trying to break me, baby?” He asks. Summer buries her head against his shirt and he sighs and pats her back awkwardly.

 

“Yeah, okay—n-no need to get emotional, Summer.”

 

She squeezes tighter and he feels his walls crumble slowly. He wraps his arm around her shoulder and gives a brief squeeze of his own.

 

 _I’m getting soft in my old age_ , He thinks to himself and quietly hopes there aren’t any nearby Rick’s to see his moment of weakness.

 

When Summer releases him from the embrace he pulls the polaroid out from his pocket and grabs a red sharpie from one of the shelves beside him.

 

He tugs on Summer’s arm and draws her back into the storage room.

 

She watches as he peels off the label and slaps the polaroid against the wall; in the picture Summer is pressed against his chest, her eyes bright as she holds the arm he wrapped around her shoulders; expression bemused as she looks up to the camera. Rick smirks softly in the photo as his chin rests atop her head and it is the closest thing to an actual smile she’s ever seen him give.

 

She stares at it for a long while and then nearly gasps in horror when Rick takes the red sharpie in his hand and begins writing against the wall above the photo.

 

“What are you doing?” She screeches in her surprise.

 

“Relax, I own this place.” He remarks nonchalantly and continues to write. When he finishes he takes a step back to admire his handy-work.

 

“Like it?”

 

Summer takes in the words above their photo. Her eyes begin to tear up again.

 

_Rick and Summer’s Day Care_

“Why is you name before mine?” She asks, voice brittle as she tries not to cry. Rick huffs out a laugh and draws her into his side.

 

“Cause I’m the fucking best, baby.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Summer has been with him for eight months now and she is as much of a caretaker for the Morty’s as he is. He’s a little better with them than she is but he’s had years of practice over her and mild resentment still lingers around her edges.

 

On the day of his—and every other Rick’s birthday, he and Summer found themselves with no Morty’s for the day and so closed up early. Summer surprised him with a small cake that she’d hidden in the very back of the fridge and she sung him happy birthday as he blew out the single candle she placed on top of it.

 

He cuts them both a slice and they sit on top of the front counter and watch as fireworks are launched into the sky. Bright flashes of light explode across their vision, colors splaying across their bodies, and Rick watches the show as he eats.

 

“You know last year everyone forgot my birthday.” Summer shares after the last firework pops and silence reigns over them.

 

Rick stills from where he’s taken a bite of his cake.

 

“Yeah?” He says, waiting for her to continue. He chews slowly; watches as her gaze grows distant, wistful.

 

“Yeah…mom, dad, Morty—no one remembered. And of course I didn’t realize they forgot. I kept expecting some kind of surprise or something. But the day passed and dinner came and went and then I’m just laying in my room, looking at the clock and thinking, wow, everyone really forgot.”

 

“And it’s silly—I mean there are worse things happening out in the world—but it really hurt. Everyone forgot about me. And I start crying as I look at the clock and count down the time till my birthday is over and then suddenly my door slams open.”

 

“Grandpa Rick is—“ Her voice hitched. “He’s standing in the doorway and he yells at me to get dressed. When I do he opens up a portal and tugs me through. We’re at this alien carnival—Zerp-zerp—“

 

“Zerpozium,” He offers and she nods her head.

 

“Yeah he takes me to Zerpozium and we ride all the rides and play all the games and eat all this junk food. He even let me take a drink from his flask and my God, that shit was _foul_. It burned my throat raw.” She gave a brief laugh at the memory before sobering again.

 

“It was fun. Really fun. And at the end of it he pulled me into a hug and he said, ‘Happy birthday, Summer. I hope it was a good one.’ and that—that was—“ Her voice broke and he saw her begin to tear up. She sniffled and wiped a fist against her eye.

 

“It was one of the best moments of my life.” She said softly, face downcast. “And I wish it had never happened.”

 

“Because if he were just some dick it would be so much easier to get over this. But he wasn’t. He was grumpy and mean but he—he made me think he’d loved me. And that hurt so much more than if he’d just left.”

 

Silence descends after her admission, only broken when she gives a wet, self-depreciating chuckle. She swiped her wrist against her cheeks.

 

“Sorry, I—I don’t know why I brought that up,” She says. “I’m just being stupid.”

 

She sniffles again and reaches for her slice of cake, shoveling a large piece into her mouth. Rick watches as she continues to stuff her mouth until suddenly she hiccups around her frosting and proceeds to sob.

 

“Sorry!” She exclaims and presses a hand against her mouth in an effort to smother it. “I-I’m sorry! Shit—I—“ She gives another strangled inhale and brought her other hand up so she could cover her face.

 

“I’m sorry!” She said, words muffled. Rick pushed his and her plate to the side, reached over, and dragged her onto his lap.

 

“It’s okay, Summer,” He tells her as she shakes against his chest. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

He runs his fingers through her hair and quietly soothes away her sadness and as he does he prays he never runs into her Rick.

 

Because if he does he’ll fucking kill that guy.

 

When Summer’s birthday approaches he takes her through a portal and she stills when she sees where they are.

 

“Zerpozium,” She breathes and he nods his head. There are screams of delight and upbeat music playing as different aliens mill about.

 

“You said you had fun here, yeah? I figured you’d want to come back.”

 

Summer is silent and he starts to gnaw on his toothpick anxiously. He’d wanted her to have a good experience at this place, a new one; one untarnished by the memory of her grandfather.

 

He is just thinking that maybe his plan was stupid and he should portal them to a movie when she is suddenly throwing her arms around him.

 

“Thank you,” She cries and squeezes him tightly. “Thank you.”

 

Rick feels his shoulders relax and his demeanor soften.

 

“No problem, baby,” He says and cradles the back of her head as she presses against his chest.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Don’t leave me,” She said one day as they lean against the front desk and bask in the midday sun. He blinks and cocks his head against the palm he rests it on.

 

“I didn’t know I was going anywhere,” He comments, attempting for levity, but she doesn’t laugh or smirk; just stares straight with a far away look in her gaze that makes him think that she is thinking on her past.

 

“You know what I mean,” She says and he does.

 

She doesn’t want him to leave her behind like her Rick had.

 

He stares at her until she finally turns to regard him.

 

“I won’t leave,” He promises softly and then turns back to gazing lazily at the meandering Rick’s and Morty’s. “Not without you, anyway.”

 

He pretends he doesn’t hear as she quietly sniffles and subtly rubs at her eyes. A hand settles into his, fingers lacing with his own, and he squeezes.

 

He won’t leave her behind.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“You should stop smoking. It’ll kill you.” Rick shifted his attention to his right and saw Summer standing there. He pulled the cigarette from his lips and blew a cloud of nicotine out.

 

“Good, I want to die.” He told her, tone candid. Summer blanched at his words.

 

“Why would you say that?” She asked meekly, clearly bothered by his statement. He shrugged and then felt bad as he saw Summer look to the floor sadly. He took one last drag from his cigarette before dropping it into his open beer can.

 

“Okay, okay, don’t look so sad—I put it out.” He grumbled. Summer tilted her head and regarded him with a glum expression.

 

“Do you really want to die, Rick?” She asked. He stared at her apathetically before reaching out to lay his palm flat against her head.

 

“Yeah, baby.” She pulls away and he reels her back towards him and throws an arm around her shoulders.

 

“Hey, hey—“ He says and tilts her chin up. “Just because I want to die doesn’t mean I’ll do it. I’m not going to—I-I won’t leave you behind, remember?” Summer nods her head and he can see that her eyes are tearing up.

 

“But, Summer—I-I’m not going to live forever, you know?”

 

“I know.” She says sadly. “But I don’t want you to die sooner than you have to either.”

 

“Death is a part of life, Summer,” He tells her. “One day I’ll be gone, but—you’ll get over it. You’re strong.”

 

“I don’t think anyone is strong enough to get over a loved one’s death, Rick.” She says somberly. “I know I wouldn’t handle it well if you died.”

 

“Oh, so you love me, huh?”

 

“What?” Summer yelps. Rick leans his head against a palm and glances at her.

 

“’Loved one’s death’—you basically just told me you loved me.”

 

“Shut up,” Summer stammers out, a blush unfolding over her cheeks. “I didn’t say that.”

 

Rick chuckles, shifts his hand and lays it atop Summer’s head.

 

“Whatever you say, baby.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The day their world ended started off like any other.

 

There was no ominous feeling in the air, no gut feelings to be had—it was just a normal day.

 

And no one ever realizes that—that tragedy can strike when you least expect it.

 

“Did Guilty Rick pick up his Morty yet?” Rick asked Summer as he approached her. She cocked her head at him when he came to settle at her side at the counter.

 

“Nope,” She said, popping the P. “It’s been three days now—should we be worried?”

 

Rick took an inhale of his cigarette.

 

“Nah,” He said, smoke trailing after his words. “Guy always bails for a few days when he’s feeling extra shitty.”

 

Summer glanced at him sharply when she spies the cloud of nicotine.

 

“Hey, what did I say about smoking?” She rebukes and he groans. He shifts away from her; hand coming up to cradle his cigarette protectively.

 

“C’mon, baby, it’s not like I can drink—I-I need _some_ kind of vice*.”

 

“Get into chocolate.” She says, unsympathetic to his plight.

 

“I’m lactose intolerant.” He retorts and her face scrunches up.

 

“That isn’t true, Grandpa Rick used to—“ Her voice died and her mouth slammed shut with a clack. He glanced at her; took another drag on his cigarette.

 

“You can talk about him you know.” He told her. “It won’t upset me.”

 

That was a lie. He got angry every time he thought of that motherfucker.

 

Summer shook her head beside him.

 

“No, it—it’s been a year. I’m over it.” She said but the way she kept her gaze on the floor made him think otherwise. Rick stared at her for a long moment before taking one last drag and then pulling the cigarette from his mouth.

 

He flicked it away; pulled out a new toothpick and settled it between his teeth.

 

“Wanna watch a movie tonight?” He asks. Summer’s shoulders relax and she looks up to him with a tentative smile.

 

“Can I pick?”

 

He lays his palm against her head and smiles down at her.

 

“Yeah, baby.”

 

They man the counter, process incoming Morty’s, and file out the one’s whose Rick’s come to get them. It’s a normal day up until Summer notices a difference in their day’s routine.

 

“Hey—look at that,” She tugs on his shirt sleeve and he swings his gaze to her. She’s looking at the center of The Citadel and he follows her stare to find a group of Guard Rick’s leading what appear to be a Morty and Summer away. Rick twists the toothpick in his mouth as he watches them be lead to the main hall where The Council of Rick’s resided.

 

“Weird,” He mutters when they’re out of view.

 

“They didn’t have their Rick with them,” Summer comments softly. He looks down and catches a fleeting look of sadness upon her face. It’s gone in the next instant.

 

“You okay?” He asks and she turns her face up to him. There’s a long pause before she smiles.

 

“Yeah,” She says, voice bright. “I want to watch _Remember Me_ tonight.”

 

Rick grimaces at her choice. “Ugh, I hate that movie.”

 

“Why?” She asks with a smile. “Because it makes you cry?”

 

“No, because I hate Robert Pattinson. And tragedies. Life has enough of those already.”

 

She laughs. “Okay, fine, let’s watch _Mad Max_. I know how much you love Tom Hardy.”

 

“I’m gonna fuck that guy one day,” He tells her matter-of-factly and Summer let’s out a loud guffaw at the his announcement. She slaps a palm over her mouth and collapses over the counter with repressed mirth. Rick smiles at the happiness she exudes.

 

 _She’s come a long way_ , he thinks.

 

They continue on with their day; they pass out porn to eager Morty’s and play Ball Fondler’s on the television. They break up fights between irritable Morty’s and clean up bloodied lips and scraped cuts. He is just asking her on what to do for dinner when his gut plummets and his entire body seems to leap.

 

There’s a loud bang and the sound of something crashing and he finds himself on the floor. The Morty’s are yelling in panic and Rick feels adrenaline spike in his systems.

 

“Summer!” He yells out.

 

“I’m right here.” A hand falls atop his. “What happened?”

 

He hears shots from outside, joined by angry yelling and crashes. He peeks over his counter and sees Rick’s and Morty’s running and fighting against aliens in orange jumpsuits. There are Federation gromflomites intermingled with them.

 

“Shit,” He mutters. “It’s the fucking Federation.”

 

He stands up as he talks and he drags Summer to her feet. The Morty’s are still screaming so he yells at them to quiet down.

 

“Everyone huddle up. I’m teleporting us out of here.”

 

The Morty’s quickly obey and Rick reaches beneath the counter to pull out his portal gun. He sets it to the Rick Safe House coordinates and the classic green portal appears.

 

The Morty’s file through swiftly and he counts each one as they go.

 

“Fuck,” He mutters. Twelve passed through and he had another five left. There was only enough charge for seventeen to pass through. When the last Morty goes through the portal snaps close and disappears. Summer shoots him a look of alarm.

 

“My portal gun ran out of charge. We’re gonna make a break for the communal portal. If we’re lucky we’ll find another Rick’s portal gun.”

 

He grabs onto Summer’s shoulders; looks straight into her eyes.

 

“Whatever happens don’t stop running, alright?” He commands and Summer nods her head.

 

Rick grabbed his ray gun and they snuck out through the door. It was a fucking mess outside; he tried not to stare too closely at the carnage and he tugged Summer into a brisk run. His eyes coasted over the remains as they ran; searching out for fluorescent green but he never found anything.

 

Rick’s in guard uniforms fired their plasma rays at the different aliens that leapt around them and Rick held onto Summer’s hand for dear life as they weaved between gunfire.

 

There was a boom and he moved to shield Summer. Something sharp grazed his forehead; shrapnel from a bomb apparently.

 

“You alright?” He yelled over his shoulder, checking on her.

 

“I’m good,” She said, sounding winded.

 

They ran all the way to the center of the Citadel and Rick let out a breath of despair when he saw the communal portal, cracked in half and broken.

 

He lets go of Summer to rub a palm over his face.

 

“Now what?” Summer asks bleakly.

 

He’s about to answer when something loud buzzes near his ear and pain sizzles across his neck. He drops his gun in shock.

 

“Dammit!” He yells out, hand pressing against his throat. He pulls back and sees there’s no blood; just a sharp, burning sensation beating along his pulse. A ray must’ve grazed him, he thinks. There’s a movement in his peripheral and he looks up.

 

“Fuck,” He said just as he saw one of the gromflomite’s; a gun in their grip and aimed directly at him. He saw them pull the trigger and he felt as time slowed around him.

 

People say you see your life flash before your eyes when you’re about to die; a kaleidoscope of memories all in those few brief moments. That didn’t happen for him.

 

He thought of Summer.

 

He thought of how she’d have to see his life bleed out; how devastated she’d be as he died and how she’d be mad that he broke his promise and left her behind. First her Rick and brother, then her parents, and now him.

 

He thought of how she’d cuss him out and call him a liar as tears would run down her cheeks.

 

He thought of how her heart would break as she cradled him close.

 

He thought of all these things in the small frame of time it took for the ray to leave the barrel and shoot towards him.

 

 _Summer, forgive me_ , was his last thought right before he felt a body collide harshly against his and knock him to the floor.

 

His side impacted against the ground hard and he whipped up just in time to see the ray pass through Summer’s abdomen. Blood arced, catching him in the face, and he watched, wide-eyed, as she fell brokenly against the ground.

 

_“SUMMER!”_

 

His heart stuttered and he pushed off of the floor and ran to her, his hand sliding against the floor to pick up his fallen gun as he did. He fired at the gromflomite without looking, heard the squelch as his ray made contact, and then collapsed at Summer’s side when he was near her.

 

“It—it’s going to be okay, Summer.” He told her, tone rushed and desperate. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

Except it wasn’t, he thought, as blood continued to seep out of her stomach at a rapid pace. He pressed his hand against the wound and watched her flinch against the pain.

 

An alien wearing the orange of the Federation prisoner jumpsuit leapt towards them and Rick quickly pulled out his ray gun and shot him mid-jump. It fell to the floor in a lifeless heap and Rick drew Summer to him and lifted her up bridal style.

 

“Rick,” She said and then coughed wetly. Rick’s heart lurched when he saw blood dribble from her lips.

 

He held her closely and began to sprint across the citadel, dodging the crossfire that rained down around him.

 

He saw Morty’s and Rick’s laying dead on the floor and he felt sick as he passed their mutilated corpses.

 

He sprinted them all the way to the Healing Center and found the building in ruins; it’s roof torn clear off and a giant fissure along the wall. He carried her inside and found it was equally destroyed in there.

 

He looked for one of the healing tools or an intact chamber but found nothing but crumbling debris and broken machinery. He tossed shit around, hands grasping along the floor for something useful but only stirred up dust.

 

“Rick,” Summer called and Rick quickly darted to her side.

 

She was so pale; blood pooling beneath her and creating a stark contrast against the white powder against the floor. She looked like a fallen angel, he thought as he knelt beside her. Like an ethereal entity that had been dragged down and had their wings clipped and broken by demons.

 

“Hey, Summer,” He said softly, gruffly.

 

Blood dribbled down her chin and she focused glassy eyes on him slowly.

 

He sat down, kicked his legs out, and dragged Summer so that she could lay across his lap; his knee supporting her back as his arm came up to cradle her shoulders. He threaded his hand through her red hair and his other pressed softly against the wound that bled sluggishly against his palm.

 

Screams and cries continued to sound in the background but Rick ignored it as he gazed down at the redhead that lay dying in his lap.

 

“Don’t leave me,” She pleaded tearfully and Rick snorted and stroked his fingers along her scalp soothingly.

 

“I won’t leave you, baby,” He said, voice thick. “How could I?”

 

Tears slid down her cheeks and he shifted his hand to gently wipe them away.

 

“You’re a…you’re a good guy, Rick.” Summer said haltingly. “I’m sorry it took me so long to open myself up to you.”

 

She coughed, more blood dribbling down her chin, and he quietly shushed her. She shook her head and continued.

 

“I love you, Rick,” She told him, eyes sincere and sad. “I love you.”

 

He felt his eyes sting, and blur over and thought, _shit, I got blood in my eyes_. And wasn’t that just fucking perfect.

 

He only realized he was crying when he saw the wet drops fall against her neck and trail down to soak into her blood drenched top and then he felt awful because Summer was fucking dying and all he could do was cry over her.

 

Summer’s brow furrowed sympathetically and she lifted a shaky hand to press it against his cheek. His breath hitched around a sob and he leant into her comforting touch.

 

“Don’t cry, Rick,” She told him, her voice cracked and full of exhaustion. “Everything is alright.”

 

“Fuck,” He cussed, and felt more tears run down his cheeks.

 

“I’m so—“ His voice broke off; chest heaving as another sob got caught in his throat. He took a stuttering inhale, tightened his fingers around her shoulder, and felt as the world crumbled around him.

 

“I’m so sorry,” He told her, eyes clenching shut as his body racked with his silent tears. He lifted his palm from her wound and pressed it against the back of the hand she held against his cheek. He laced their fingers together and when he opened his eyes again Summer was smiling up at him.

 

She was radiant; beautiful.

 

She did not deserve what they had done to her.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” She told him even as the floor beneath them rocked with an explosion and screams of terror echoed around them. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

“It’s going to be okay.”

 

She repeated it like a mantra until eventually her eyes slid shut and her voice stuttered and broke off. The labored breaths she gave ceased and her hand grew limp within his.

 

“No,” He whispered, and hefted her up closer. “No, no, no.”

 

He released her hand and it fell against her still chest.

 

“No, no, baby, look at me, yeah. Look at me.” He ran bloody fingers through her hair; stroked the back of his knuckles against her pale cheeks in a futile attempt to rouse her.

 

“No, c’mon, Summer—w-wake up for me, baby.”

 

She was motionless, lifeless.

 

“No, please, don’t—don’t fucking do this to me,” He begged, words taking on a hysterical edge. Summer didn’t respond.

 

“Please, Summer, please—fucking—“ He took a gasping breath; his lungs tightening as he tried to stifle his pain, his agony, _everything_.

 

His body shook and his breath hitched, more sobs building in his chest and _it wasn’t supposed to be like this_.

 

They were supposed to watch Mad Max tonight and get sick off of popcorn and candy. They were supposed to get ice cream in the middle of the night like they always do and then talk about the funny shit the Morty’s did that day. They were supposed to _live dammit_ , and if anyone were supposed to die it should’ve fucking been _him_.

 

_“Death is a part of life, Summer.”_

_It wasn’t supposed to be like this._

“Wake up,” He cries. “Wake the fuck up.”

 

His words are sharp and he cries harder. He cradles her close, apologies pouring past his lips.

 

“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to talk like that, Summer, j-just—“

 

He wanted to close his eyes, fall asleep, and wake up from this fucking nightmare because that’s all this was, right?

 

“Please, baby, please— _open your eyes for me_.”

 

It was a nightmare, just a nightmare.

 

_Close your eyes, Rick, it’s not real. Close your eyes._

His eyes burned and blurred with his tears but he kept them open; waiting, waiting, but he knew.

 

She died in his arms.

 

She died in his arms and he held her close and waited for his own death.

 

It was all he deserved for not being able to protect her.

 

_I love you._

.

 

.

 

.

 

Hours later and he was still alive.

 

Summer had grown cold within his embrace and her blood had dried thickly against his clothes. Her eyes were still closed and she looked peaceful in death.

 

He could almost imagine she was sleeping like this.

 

He felt his eyes water again and he pressed a soft kiss against her forehead.

 

Rick cradled the back of her head and brought her up so that he could press his face against her red strands. He inhaled deep, smelt the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo and the salty tang of her sweat.

 

It blocked out the heavy copper of her blood and he closed his eyes, numbed himself to the world, and waited for the end.

 

“Hey, we found one!” Rick’s head jerked up as he heard the sound of booted feet slapping against the floor. He tightened his arm around Summer. A collection of Rick’s entered his line of vision.

 

“It’s Storage Rick,” One of them announced.

 

“C’mon, man, let’s get the fuck out of here. We’re collecting the stragglers before we blow up the Citadel.”

 

“Blow up?” Rick echoed weakly.

 

They were going to blow up his and Summer’s home?

 

Someone touched his shoulder and he felt fear grip his heart for a moment. He whipped to the person with a growl, his arms tightening further around Summer.

 

“Whoa, brother,” The Rick who touched him said, his hands up in a pacifying manner. “Easy now.”

 

“We gotta go,” Another Rick snarls as he looks around warily. “This dimension’s Federation is most likely on their way. Get up and—”

 

“Leave me.”

 

The collection of Rick’s turn to him, baffled. “What?”

 

“Leave me,” He repeats. “You’re only collecting living people right? There isn’t enough charge on your portal guns to spare for the dead.” He shifted Summer in his arms; brought her closer to his chest.

 

The other Ricks’ gave swiveled to the redhead in his embrace before looking back to him.

 

“Hey, we need the number’s, alright?” One of them said. “You’re coming with us.”

 

“I’m not leaving her.”

 

They stared at him, still perplexed, before one of them gave an annoyed shake of their head.

 

“Grab him, we don’t have time for this bullshit. The bomb will go off soon.”

 

Rick jolted as their hands settled on him and he was roughly dragged to his feet. Summer slid from his grip and fell to the floor limply.

 

“No!” He yelled as his heart jumped into his throat.

 

“N-no…Summer… _Summer!_ ” He cried as they forcibly dragged him away. He struggled against their hold; thrashed wildly in an attempt to get back to her.

 

Someone punched him in the jaw and lights explode across vision as his body fell limp. When the disorientation passed he dragged his head up, searched out for Summer, and called her name weakly when he found her.

 

“Sum—Summer…”

 

The Rick’s holding him continue to pull his weak body further and further away from her. His head lolls sloppily on his shoulders and he blinks blearily as his vision begins to fade and black creeps slowly along the edges of his sight. His consciousness is slipping and he struggles to stay awake.

 

“Summer,” He murmurs again right before darkness swallows him.

 

The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Summer laying lonely and forgotten; her broken figure surrounded by the remnants of their destroyed home and his shattered promises.

 

_“Don’t leave me.”_

**_“I won’t leave.”_ **

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Move your jaw around; how does it feel?”

 

Rick did as he was asked. He was sitting in the newly operated Healing Center.

 

It had been three days since the attack on the Citadel; their old location had been destroyed and a new location had been founded to set up shop. Rick had been floating between dimensions, straggling with other dimensionless Rick’s until a New Citadel was founded and a Council of Rick’s voted in.

 

They rebuilt quickly, their numbers still large despite the heavy casualties, and Rick had been functioning on autopilot the entirety of the ordeal.

 

It was on the third day that Surgeon Rick had found him and hustled him into his place of business.

 

“Good,” Rick said flatly, his gaze downcast. “Can I go now?”

 

Surgeon Rick ran his gaze over his counterpart slowly. He pointed at the burn mark along his neck.

 

“How about that one?” He asks. “Want me to heal it?”

 

Rick blinks; he runs his palm over the raised, tender flesh.

 

“No,” He says. _I want it to scar._

It’s a memory of his inadequacies; a physical reminder of his failures. He wants it forever.

 

Surgeon Rick seems to grasp his thoughts. He folds his arms over his uniform and narrows his eyes. He seems to deliberate for a second before he opens his mouth.

 

“Hey, I—I-I heard about Summer.”

 

Rick froze; heart clenching at her name. Surgeon Rick paused, waited for Rick to respond and then continued when he proffered no words.

 

“Look, I didn’t know her very well but I know she wouldn’t want to see you like—“

 

“Shut up,” Rick interrupted and then darted his face up angrily. “You didn’t know her so don’t fucking try to tell me what she would or wouldn’t want, alright?” He grit out.

 

Surgeon Rick gave him an apathetic stare but it was tinged with pity and that upset Rick even more.

 

Surgeon Rick folded his arms over his chest and leant against one of his healing chambers.

 

“I knew her enough to know she would want you to be happy.”

 

“Happy?” Rick echoed, voice tight. “You think she wants me to be happy that I couldn’t protect her? That I let her die? You think she wants me to be happy that I left her behind and I couldn’t even—I couldn’t even take her body—“ His breath hitched as he struggled to finish his sentence and he felt his eyes sting.

 

He blinked them furiously and internally berated himself because he’s not going to cry _, Rick’s don’t fucking cry._

“You didn’t fucking know her, alright?” He said instead and his words warbled.

 

Surgeon Rick nodded his head slowly, carefully.

 

“Okay, brother,” He said.

 

Rick stood up abruptly—too riled to keep still—and left the healing center. He passed his new Day Care, passed the milling Rick’s with their companion Morty’s, and he walked all the way to the edge of the New Citadel.

 

He leant against the railing and stared out at the stars before him. The patterns were different in this dimension and it was almost painful for him to catalogue them and realize that he had truly lost the only place he had thought of as home.

 

He dipped into his pocket and his fingers wrapped around cool metal.

 

Some Rick’s were awarded with gifts for their acts of heroism. Rick snorted. Acts of heroism his ass.

 

He himself was awarded a medal.

 

He held it in his fingers, turned it slowly in his grip, and read the words printed along it.

 

_“For your Diligence in your Duty and for Protecting every Charge in your Care”_

 

He traced the engraving with his thumb as he leant against the freshly constructed rail. He wondered how far he needed to lean for it to either break or for him to fall over and then ruefully shook his head at the thought.

 

Summer sacrificed her life so he could live.

 

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the flask he’d purchased; took a long pull and felt the sharp burn of the whiskey sliding down his throat to settle heavy in his stomach.

 

When the flask was empty, he turned the medal one last time in his fingers before casually chucking it over the side.

 

He watched its descent briefly before turning and walking away.

 

_“…protecting every charge in your care.”_

.

 

.

 

.

 

The first day at the Day Care is pointless. None of the Rick’s are quite ready to leave their Morty’s in his care after the recent massacre and so Rick is left with nothing to do. When four rolls around with still no Morty’s present he closes up early and falls into bed.

 

It used to be easy; sleeping alone.

 

But Summer interrupted that when she made a permanent place at his side. He stays on the left, his spot, and settles his hand on where she would’ve been if she were there.

 

She used to kick her legs over his, arms flopping in her sleep and catching him in the face. He used to think it was annoying.

 

Now he missed it with all his heart.

 

He tries to sleep but can’t so he counts his breaths; tries to lull himself into some type of slumber. When he counts to a thousand and still finds himself awake he gets up, settles on the floor, and then slides himself beneath his bed.

 

Darkness wraps around him and he can delude himself into thinking he is past life down here; stuck in some type of limbo.

 

He counts his breaths again; listens to his heartbeats and still doesn’t sleep. When the first tendrils of light begin to seep beneath his mattress he thinks about getting up.

 

He doesn’t.

 

He remains where he is, counts his breaths until the light fades and tapers off and darkness settles over him once more.

 

.

 

.

 

.

_“Rick!”_

Rick jumps from his position; he had been staring at the empty wall again.

 

_Rick and Summer’s Day Care_

He wishes he had grabbed the polaroid before he left but it had never occurred to him that it would be the last picture he’d have of her.

 

“Yeah?” He asks distantly and then shakes his head. “Yeah?”

 

He turns around and finds Morticia standing before him.

 

“Morty fell and hurt himself.” She explains, eyes darting between him and the wall he had been looking at for the past fifteen minutes. Her mouth curls with pity and he turns away from her sharply.

 

“Alright,” He says and moves to where he sees Morty’s grouping around a figure.

 

“Okay, kids, move out of the way,” He instructs and they part before him. Scruffy Morty is on the floor and Rick is just about to ask if he’s all right when his eyes run over his injury.

 

He sees the blood and freezes; heartbeat picking up as his throat constricts. He can’t move, he can barely breathe, and Morty’s press around him curiously. The drops of blood on the floor grow larger and larger until it washes away everything else and then he’s back there.

 

Summer’s eyes are open and her palm presses against his cheek. He gasps for air as he gazes at her.

 

“Why, Rick?” She asks, blood dripping past her lips and down her chin.

“Why did you let this happen to me?” Summer whispers and he wants to scream he doesn’t know why, just that he’s sorry, _he’s so fucking sorry_.

 

_It’s not real, close your eyes. Close your eyes, Rick._

He can’t, he can’t close his fucking eyes because Summer died; she died and it’s all his fault and he’s not going to look away because he doesn’t get to just like she doesn’t get to live.

 

 _“Wipe it up!”_ Someone yells; voice distorted and distant, and he blinks and then he’s back in the Day Care, shaking and breathless on the floor as Morty’s surround him, terrified.

 

“What happened?” He asks, dazed and exhausted.

 

He presses a trembling hand up against his face and pulls it back to find it wet with tears.

 

“What happened?” He repeats.

 

Morticia steps forward and gives him a worried look.

 

“Nothing, Rick, just—y-you got spooked by the blood I think.”

 

“What?” He asked, still confused.

 

He get’s up jerkily and nearly keels over from the exertion. His vision pans around the room and settles on Morty’s still skinned knee. He feels vertigo hit him along with a strong desire to vomit as he takes in the red along his pants.

 

He wobbles and one of the nearby Morty’s settle him.

 

What—what the fuck?

 

Did he really just freak out over some blood?

 

“Fuck,” He cusses out and feels the world spin around him quickly. He closes his eyes and places a palm against his clammy forehead. His whole body is still shaking and he feels like he’d just ran a marathon with the amount of effort it takes just to hold himself up.

 

“Rick?” Someone murmurs, voice cautious. “I-I think maybe you should…you should go lie down.” Rick swallows back bile and nods his head jerkily. He walks to the back, uses his hand to steady himself against the wall, and pushes open his door somberly.

 

He stands in his room; tries to calm himself down and catalogue his symptoms for an explanation.

 

He settles on post traumatic stress disorder and concludes that he really did have an episode over blood. It wasn’t even a lot; just a minor abrasion.

 

And fuck, what good is he anymore? Can’t even handle a fucking skinned knee without having a fucking panic attack.

 

He’s angry and mortified and just so fucking tired; he just wants to sleep and sleep and never wake up.

 

“Rick?” Someone prods and there’s a soft touch against his shoulder. He flinches, breath stuttering, and he looks up just in time to see Morticia recoil.

 

“Shit,” He mutters, upset with himself. “I—I’m sorry, Morticia.”

 

“It’s okay, Rick,” The girl replies softly.

 

And something in his chest breaks at her words because _it’s not okay, nothing is fucking okay._

He wants to yell at her that she doesn’t know anything, no one knows.

His fucking mind is shattering and dragging his body with it and he wants to be more than this fucking depressed, half-person that he is right now.

 

He wants to shed the grief and heartache and be who he was before all the bullshit that went down.

 

He wants—

 

He wants Summer.

“I—“ He begins, voice sharp with his raging emotions and he is quick to temper it for the young girl.

 

“…I really want to be alone right now, Morticia.” He says and his words warble and crack and _fuck_ he’s going to cry again. He looks away from her, blinks rapidly to stem the tears that sting at his eyes, and waits in silence for her to leave.

 

She does but not before lingering in the doorway.

 

“It’s going to be okay, Rick.” She says before exiting and he waits for the door to close before he is yelling into his palms.

 

_“It’s going to be okay, Rick.”_

 

**Nothing is okay.**

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Survivor’s guilt,” A rick in the bar tells him. “Just buy more alcohol; it’ll go away quick.”

 

He takes his advice and splurges; purchasing bottle after bottle of human and alien liquor. It does little to make him forget but he likes the lightness he feels with it, likes the way he can black out and erase himself from reality for a moment.

 

But then it ends and he feels heavy with grief and sick and the process renews itself again.

 

He frequents the bar at night when all the Morty’s in his care have gone home with their Rick’s or the few that are left are tucked away neatly for the night. A few of his regular Morty’s notice the shift in his behavior; see the coldness where there used to be warmth. The Morty’s who don’t know any better ask about Summer sometimes and he yells at them to shut up.

 

No one mentions her again and for a while it’s almost like she never existed.

 

And Rick is okay with that for a while but then soon it bothers him; upsets him even.

 

The idea of her being forgotten twist his stomach into knots; makes him sick with guilt to the point where he can’t eat.

 

He doesn’t want to forget but he also doesn’t want to remember.

 

It’s a paradox; a fucking conundrum, and Rick hates himself more and more with each passing day.

 

“You don’t have to forget her,” Another Rick says, one littered with tattoos on every available space of his body. “There are other ways to honor her memory.”

 

He visits this Rick again and asks for a tattoo.

 

He has her name tattooed across his heart and thinks _it’s only fair_. Her heart stopped beating because of him so really it’s only fair. His will beat for her even though most days he just wanted to reach inside his chest and crush it; stop the pain, stop the misery.

 

But he supposes that’s just a part of his punishment and honestly he deserves it.

 

Is there a timeframe to someone’s grief?

 

He wants to ask if his time is almost up because he doesn’t know how much longer he can take it. He looks at other Rick’s; sees how they cope with the death and pain in their lives and he wonders how they do it so effortlessly.

 

He wonders if maybe they’re just assholes to be so unaffected.

 

Then he wonders if maybe he’s just weak.

 

“My coping methods must be poor,” He says to Biker Rick when he bums a cigarette off him. The other man shrugs a shoulder and glares at nothing and Rick takes a drag of his cigarette and feels numb detachment settle over his body as he looks out at the Citadel.

 

_“You should stop smoking. It’ll kill you.”_

He blinks at the sudden memory and feels his chest grow heavy as it always does when he thinks of her.

 

He pulls the cigarette from his mouth and looks at it as he rolls it between his fingertips slowly.

 

_“Good, I want to die.”_

He puts the cigarette out against the back of his hand and feels the pain in his chest recede as the sting against his flesh grows.

 

“Don’t ask me for any more,” Biker Rick tells him and folds his arms across his chest.

 

His sleeves are rolled up and the multitude of burn scars across his forearms stare back at Rick.

 

Rick nods his head, drops his cigarette, and feels bereft.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Get over it,” A random Rick says one night as he is drinking at the bar. This Rick notices his depression and he takes a shot. “Just get a new Summer. It’s not like they’re worth anything.”

 

Rick stares at him quietly as the other Rick laughs with a group. He feels rage wash over him at the casual dismissal of Summer and he doesn’t even realize he moved until he sees the Rick fall and feels a sharp sting against his fist.

 

“You son of a bitch,” The other Rick growls as he presses his sleeve against his bloodied lip.

 

Rick saw the blood and felt his heart lurch; felt panic rise and constrict his chest even as anger continued to seep into his veins.

 

“I’ll fucking kill you,” He snarls, voice murderous.

 

The other Rick’s pause in the bar; their voices dying down as they spectate because they had likely never heard him this angry before. The Rick on the floor gazes up at him and his face falls flat but the message in his eyes is clear.

 

_Get over it before it kills you._

 

There’s a strange moment of understanding between them and it hits Rick poignantly.

 

He used to think that he was nothing like the other Rick’s.

 

Now he can’t even tell the difference.

 

A group of Guard Rick’s eye him warily and Rick clenches his fists and shifts his jaw.

 

“Don’t you ever say that in front of me again.” He warns.

 

The patrons continue to stare at him even as he downs the rest of his drink and walks stiffly out of the bar.

 

He just makes it to the Day Care before he collapses behind his desk. He scrubs furiously at the blood against his knuckles and his eyes sting and his chest heaves for air as he struggles to get oxygen.

 

He blinks and he’s there again, sitting in a pool of Summer’s blood as she lays dead in his arms.

 

 _Close your eyes!_ His mind screams at him, but he can’t, he can’t look away from her.

 

He no longer knows if he does it to punish himself in some form of masochistic atonement or if it’s because it’s the only way he can have Summer with him.

 

She touches his cheek in his vision and her blood pools up and engulfs them.

 

_CLOSE YOUR EYES!_

 

“Summer…” He calls weakly, fingers scrabbling against the floor as his body refuses to obey. “Summer,” He says again and feels the tears slide down his cheeks.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Some days Rick can’t sleep and other days it’s all he can do. He shifts between debilitating drunkenness and painful sobriety and he counts out his days and hopes everyday that he’ll die soon.

 

One day he looks at all the Rick’s that pass by and counts all the lives he’d exchange for Summer’s own.

 

Guard Rick.

 

_1_

 

Bubblegum Rick.

 

_2_

 

Macho Rick.

 

_3_

The number climbs all the way to 99 until his eyes settle on a Morty and his mind is just forming the 1 and 0 before suddenly he remembers himself.

 

His count stutters and falls and he’s a little ashamed he’d almost counted a Morty because they were innocent; blameless just like his Summer.

 

He looks down at the flask in his hand; blinks at his own distorted reflection.

 

_100_

.

 

.

 

.

 

He felt his breath stutter as he takes in the redhead in front of him.

 

“Summer,” He says brokenly and she cocks an eyebrow at his strange tone. The Rick at her side frowns and snaps his fingers in front of his face, drawing his attention back to him.

 

But his eyes continue to slide to the young girl and he watches as she hunches her shoulders, uncomfortable, before finally he reluctantly turns his gaze back to the Rick before him.

 

“Yeah, wh-what—whatd’ya want” He asks; voice cracking under the emotions he feels after seeing the girl before him.

 

“I need you to watch my Summer,” The other Rick says and places a palm between the girls shoulder blades to push her close to the desk.

 

Summer folds her arms, dejected, and Rick glances at her briefly before looking to the other man. He gestures to the hand written sign slapped on the counter.

 

_“No Summer’s Allowed”_

“I don’t watch Summer’s,” He says and watches as the frown marring Summer’s features grew deeper. The other Rick gives a long huff of annoyance.

 

“L-look, I’m going—w-where I’m going I can’t take her.”

 

“Then why did you bring her in the first place?”

 

“She tripped into the portal—c’mon man—I-I-I just need you to watch her for a few hours.”

 

“I don’t watch Summer’s,” He repeated firmly and felt like a dick when he saw a flash of hurt grace the redhead’s face. “Take her home if you have to.”

 

“There’s not enough charge to make the leap to my dimension and I’m on a fucking deadline,” The other Rick says. Rick shrugs and turns his back on him.

 

“Not my problem.”

He takes maybe five steps into the room before a green portal opens before him and Summer is pushed out and crashing against him.

 

“H-hey!” He cries, arms coming around her reflexively. He looks over his shoulder just in time to see the other Rick waving at him as he runs through the crowd of Rick’s and Morty’s.

 

“Take care of her!” He yells and disappears within the crowd, leaving Rick still holding Summer. He quickly pulls away and she almost falls.

 

“I—“ He watches as she steadies herself, a glare crossing her features, and _dammit_ she looks just like _her_ in that moment; so much like her that he finds it hard to keep looking. He turns away and takes his flask out—his hand already shaky—and takes a long pull.

 

“Y-y-you—you can just—“ He waves vaguely to the open space of the storage room, still not looking at her. “Go do whatever.”

 

He retreats into the back of the storage room, away from Summer and away from his own cowardice. It’s only nine in the morning and already he want’s to get shitfaced drunk and fall back into bed.

It doesn’t sound like a bad idea, actually.

 

He heads to the fridge, grabs a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vodka. He contemplates which one to drink first or whether or not it’s more productive to just drink both at the same time.

 

He settles on vodka.

 

He chugs a fourth of it down when he feels a hand press against his shoulder.

 

“Jesus fuck!” He yells with a hard flinch. The bottle of vodka slips from his hand and shatters against the floor. He turns around to find Summer, her gaze fearful.

 

“Sorry!” She yelled. “I’m sorry!”

 

He feels his heart break at her words, at her expression. Summer had never looked at him like that. He lifts his hand; reaches forward to press it against her head but she reels back like he’s going to hit her.

 

 _She’s not your Summer._ A voice whispers in his head and his hand stills before falling limply to his side.

 

“It’s oka—i-it’s alright,” He tells her softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

She continues to stare at him until he looks away, unable to hold her gaze. He walks to the storage closet to grab a broom and dustpan when he hears Summer give a pained yelp. His stomach flips and he runs back to where she is.

 

“Summer—“ He begins but then freezes when he spies the red.

 

There is blood trailing down her palm; dripping against the floor to the broken glass. His breath leaves him in a rush. Panic clenches around his chest, seizing his limbs, and constricting his airway and he gasps, searching for air even as his eyes linger on the blood that slides down her hand.

 

There’s a hard impact against his knees and Summer calls out, “Rick?”

 

And suddenly he’s there again, watching as Summer bleeds out in his arms, holding her desperately even as her life quietly slips away. His eyes burn and his face feels wet and he just wants to close his eyes, _why can’t he just close his fucking eyes_ —

 

He feels something settle over his face and darkness blankets his vision.

 

His breath hitches around a sob and someone leans heavily against his back; their arm coming up and around to wrap across his shoulders.

 

“I’ve got you,” Summer says into his ear and he gives a pained cry at her voice. He reaches up with shaky limbs and presses against the hand that she had used to cover his eyes. He sobs into her palm; knees aching from where he fell against the floor; chest tight from struggling to breathe.

 

“I’m sorry,” He cries, fingers curling tight around her hand; hold desperate and pleading.

 

“I’m so sorry, Summer.”

 

Summer leans further against his back, her arm tight and comforting around his chest. She rests her head atop his.

 

“It’s okay, Rick,” She says and it sounds so much like _her_ , so much like her that it fucking hurts all over again. Hot tears continue to slip past his lids and he feels her tilt her head and press a kiss against his cheek. He can almost imagine it _is_ his Summer leaning against his back; rocking him gently as he cries.

 

“It’s going to be okay,” Summer says again and she repeats it until finally his tears dry and his limbs stop shaking and his chest isn’t heavy with guilt.

 

“I’m sorry, Summer,” He whispers one last time.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Hey, did you see the update to Storage Rick’s Day Care?” A Rick asks his fellow Rick as they near the said Daycare. The second Rick gives a sigh and shakes his head.

 

“No. What’s that sad SOB doing now?” The second Rick asks.

 

“He made a new sign or something—t-there, look!” The first Rick says and they stop in front of the Day Care to read the sign tacked beneath the Day Care sign. The font was large, bold red, and the Rick’s folded their arms as they read it.

 

“Dick got soft,” The second Rick commented but the first one just shrugged.

 

“Nah, he’s coping,” He said and pulled out the flask he held in his pocket. “He’s just doing it better than us.”

 

He took a long sip.

 

“Even so, which Rick is seriously going to drop off their Summer to the fucking Citadel?”

 

“It happens.”

 

They continue past the building and the sign that rests proudly on top of it.

 

_“Now accepting Summer’s at Day Care”_

END.

* * *

 

 Is Rick’s coping method healthy? I don’t really know honestly.

 

I just know that I want to die now.

 

Anyway, hope you liked it! This was about to be way longer but I refused to make this longer than a oneshot.

 

This was originally intended for rad-braybury because they have a soft spot for Storage Rick but then I killed Summer and thought, _holy shit, let me stop this now._ But then I talked to words-from-the-heart26 and hella-rick-very-morty and they both love angst and character death so _here we are_. This one was for you three (I’m sorry Rad :’0)

 

As usual send me SumRick trash to my tumblr blue10spade. If you’re not into SumRick please don’t check out my tumblr as I am deep into the cest.

 

Have you disowned me yet, Boop? :)

 

**I GOT ARTWORK BY THE AMAZING teethandeyesandacid, szechuan-sauz, AND vesp-r!!! STILL HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO POST PICTURES ON THE STORY SO I AM INSTEAD ATTACHING THE LINK!! PLEASE CHECK OUT THEIR AMAZING ARTWORK!! :)**

**[AMAZING ARTWORK HERE](https://teethandeyesandacid.tumblr.com/image/162806815596)**

**[AMAZING ARTWORK HERE](http://szechuan-sauz.tumblr.com/image/163162065877) **

**[ AMAZING ARTWORK HERE](http://vesp-r.tumblr.com/post/163472526050/i-read-coping-by-blue10spade-recently-and-it) **


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